He frowns lightly and I nod, Yes, I know. I know.
Tears fill his eyes as our reality hits him and he grabs me in an embrace, almost knocking me from my feet. He holds me tight as tears fill my eyes.
“You knew. All along you knew,” I murmur into his shoulder.
He nods into my hair and I pull back to look at his face. “I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you, too.” He holds me so tight and we stand, locked in each other’s embrace. I pull back to look at his face again. “Alchron?” I ask.
“Yes,” he whispers.
Oh no, I know that look and I swallow the lump in my throat.
I screw up my face in tears. “He died that day?”
He nods once. “Yes.”
The beautiful guard. My beautiful guard.
The tears roll down my face. “You sacrificed your life for mine?”
“I would sacrifice any life for you,” he whispers.
I stare at him through my blurred vision.
“How many? How many times have we been here?” I whisper.
“Fifteen that I remember.”
My face drops. “And the things in the cellar?’
“Are your things.”
I frown in confusion.
“Things that you have had to give up in every life to be with me. This is the first time where I am the wealthy one.” His eyes search mine. “Where I have been in a position that I could finally get your things back for you.”
I frown and I hold him that bit tighter as my eyes close. Oh, Alastar.
“Why?” I whisper. “I don’t need my things.”
“You have no idea how it feels for someone you love so desperately to have to sacrifice everything they own, time and time again just to be with you.”
My confused eyes hold his.
“You painted the paintings?” I frown. “All of the paintings you stole are of me? Are your paintings?”
“Yes.”
I put my hand over my mouth. “Holy shit, I was so…”
He kisses me and smiles broadly. “Aye, my love has always been beautiful.”
“Tomorrow we need to take the art back,” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer me, instead walking me into the house to prop me up on the kitchen bench. My mind is scrambled and bouncing from couple to couple.
“Ashford castle was my home, wasn’t it?” I ask.
“Aye. It was.”
“And the staircase was the secret door to the princess’s…my room?”
He kisses me again. “You’re getting the hang of this.”
I laugh out loud.
I stand and run to the door that goes down to the basement and jiggle the handle. “I want to see. Show me.”
He unlocks the door and slowly leads me down the steps. Suddenly fear envelopes me like a heavy coat. I was petrified the last time I was here. I don’t think I will ever like this soundproof room. My terrified eyes dart around the darkened space and I cling to his arm like a scared child as we descend.
“I hate this place,” I whisper into the still.
He smiles and kisses my lips tenderly as he cups my jaw. “I love this room.”
My eyes search his in question.
“This room brings back so many happy memories of my love.” I tear up as my heart completely melts. Oh, this beautiful man. He has searched for me, pursued and loved me. Died for me… not once but many times.
I feel overwhelmed, and to think I thought he was capable of… wait. A new line of thought crosses my mind. “The red head?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I don’t know what happened to her. I lied to you. I didn’t call the police that day, I couldn’t risk them coming over here and searching my house.”
I stare at him.
“I didn’t want to lie, but you gave me no choice,” he whispers in shame. I continue to stare at him as we hit the bottom step. Fuck, this is messed up.
I can’t even comprehend what to think about first.
We walk over to the bench and he opens the chest of paintings, unrolling them to show me. He’s so damn talented.
“You have painted in every life?” I ask.
He nods once. “Yes.” He opens the paintings one by one and shows me. I smile and then frown. “Alastar, I don’t remember these.”
He shakes his head. “It’s okay, baby.” He comforts me as if sensing how overwhelmed I am feeling. “You only ever remember two lives.”
I frown. “The princess and Elizabeth.”
“Yes.” “Why those two lives?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure.”
I frown. “How do you remember everything?”
“I don’t remember everything.” He pauses for a moment. “When I turn twenty-one in each life I start to remember little things,” he murmurs.
I drop to sit on a wooden box as I listen. I don’t think my legs will hold me up anymore.
He hesitates as he thinks of the wording. “At twenty-one I start to see flashes, similar to the ones you have experienced. Places, faces, images.”
I put my hand over my mouth. God, it’s terrifying to experience.
“How do you…?” I pause. “How do you remember?” I wipe the tears from my face. “How do you remember me?”
He leans his behind onto the bench adjacent to where I am sitting. “I don’t. I am pulled to London.”